


Realizations

by hvllanders



Series: interwebs [6]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Halloween, Hurt Peter Parker, Kinda?, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, idk its short and kinda cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 19:29:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21258449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hvllanders/pseuds/hvllanders
Summary: A lot of self-actualizing can happen while dangling from the top of a building.orPeter Parker gets older, has a kid, and realizes it can be hard to strike that work/life balance when work leads you to run your face into a wall and you just want to take your daughter trick-or-treating.





	Realizations

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm trying this thing where I don't edit every fic into the ground, and this is one such experiment. I just wanted to crank something stupid and quick out, so hopefully this is the Halloween Fic of your dreams :)

Some realizations come best while dangling off the side of a building.

Your own mortality, it turns out, is one of them.

Because for all his intuition, for all his smarts, for his stupid, will-be-in-debt-to-Tony-Stark-for-the-rest-of-his-life PhD he’s working on, Peter Parker doesn’t realize how exactly risky his profession as a part-time dad, part-time student, part-time superhero is until he has eight fingertips clinging to a building ledge.

On Halloween, of all nights.

He was meant to be home over an hour ago, helping get Lorie into her first Halloween costume and take her trick-or-treating with Morgan. And he really didn’t think stopping some robbers breaking into a shop would take that long. But, one thing led to another, and he’s dangling off a building now, fresh out of web fluid, cursing that his twenty-nine-year-old body just doesn’t swing like it used to.

And, if he was sixteen again, he would just pull himself up and crawl down the glass windows of the department store building, but he’s decidedly not a teenager, and he’s decidedly not sure if he even has the upper body strength to haul himself up the ledge. As it turns out, he’s not quite as sticky as he was at sixteen. These days, when he tries the whole wall-crawler act, he usually ends up slipping. There was even a whole viral video on Twitter of Spider-Man falling down half a building. Embarassing

So, Peter does what he somehow always ends up doing. And, thank the Lord, Tony’s voice comes over the comm.

“Pete? You were supposed to be home over an hour ago! We’ve all been waiting.”

“Yeah, sorry,” he pants, readjusting his grip on the building. He’s been hanging above the alley for twenty minutes, and his fingers are beginning to grow numb. He could probably, plausibly, survive the drop, but he would definitely break a few things. Or more than a few things. And that normally wouldn’t be a huge problem, but it’s his kid’s first Halloween, and he just wants things to be stupid and domestic and _normal_ for once. He just wants to take Lorie trick-or-treating. “I kinda need some help.”

“Help?” He hears rustling on the other side of the line, the peal of baby laughter. “What kind of help? Like, _I went out in the suit despite promising to take my kid trick-or-treating_ help?”

“Exactly.” Peter grunts again, trying to adjust into a less precarious position. “I’m sort of dangling off a building right now. And I can’t hang on much longer.”

“I’m on it.”

And of course he is. Within minutes, there’s a large drone hovering beside him. “Hello, Peter. I have been deployed under the “Save Spidey From Stupid Situations” protocol. I can bring you back to your apartment, if you wish.”

“Yes. Yeah. Perfect.” Peter pants. “That’d be great.”

And this is how, to kick off his twenty-ninth Halloween, Peter rides on top of a stupid drone in his Spidey suit all the way back to his apartment. It hovers near his back window, and he hops from the drone into the master bedroom, shaking the feeling back into his fingers and toes while quickly throwing on some clothes.

He busts into the living room without much of a second thought, slapping a grin on his face though his heart is thundering away. He’s more breathless than usual after such a short mission, but he writes it off as just getting older. Nerves that haven’t kicked in until just now.

Ned is in the kitchen, balancing a gurgling Lorie on the counter. She’s dressed as a pumpkin, complete with a hat in the shape of a stem, and is being entertained by Morgan, who is waving a witches’ wand above her head. Tony has his camera out, snapping copious pictures of the pair of them. Morgan is doing her usual act of rolling her eyes, shoving him away with, “Seriously, Dad. I think you’ve taken enough,” though Peter knows she secretly loves it.

Peter claps his hands together, letting out a long breath. “Cool, let’s do this. I’m here, I’m ready to party.” But everyone is staring at him longer than they really should, and he feels something twinge inside him. “What?”

“Babe,” Ned makes sure Lorie is in good hands with Morgan before crossing the kitchen, frowning at Peter. “You’re covered in blood.”

“Oh.” Peter takes a beat, his heart still racing. “Right. Yeah, well, that’ll be from when I ran my face into a brick wall.”

No one in the room laughs, though he kind of meant it as a joke.

“I can go wash off,” he says hurriedly, which seems like a better answer, as Ned’s eyes still scan concernedly over him.

“But we said we were going to leave an hour ago,” Morgan says, looking disgruntled. “And I still wanted to go to the party Norman was having.”

“I still never agreed to any parties,” Tony tells her, but, despite his ‘Savior of the Universe’ tee and nonchalant air, he is also throwing Peter concerned looks.

“I’m so sorry,” Peter says, suddenly feeling on the verge of tears, which is ridiculous because he has dealt with much worse than this, survived way worse than this before. All he did was stop a shop break in. And then stupidly ran out of web fluid, smashed into a wall, and been left to dangle off a ledge for an hour or so. Stupid, sure, but rather routine. He shouldn’t be feeling this shaken up over it. “I’ll…I’ll try and be fast.”

Morgan lets out a long-suffering sigh, which usually wouldn’t bother him. But unbidden tears prick his eyes, and, even worse, though Ned is preoccupied with a fussing Lorie, he knows Tony is watching his every move.

“You can go without me.”

“No, no, that’s not necessary.” Tony steps in. “You guys go ahead, get a few apartments down so Ms. Drama Queen here doesn’t lose it and our little pumpkin doesn’t get too tired. I’ll help Peter clean up.”

Peter feels Ned’s eyes on his, a question. _You okay? _But he just nods, not trusting his voice.

“Okay, let’s roll!” Morgan exclaims, scooping up Lorie, who babbles excitedly, into her arms.

Peter presses a quick kiss to Lorie’s pumpkin-clad head, feeling Ned squeeze the back of his arm before they roll out into the festivities of the street below. When he is sure they’re gone, he retreats into the bathroom, pulling out the giant plastic bin labelled _Spidey-Stuff_ and digging through various bandages and painkillers. He pops a handful of ibuprofen before cracking open an ice pack and pressing it against his rapidly swelling brow. He sits back against the bathroom wall with a sigh, enjoying the sting of the ice pack against his face.

“The swelling will probably be gone in thirty minutes.” The voice makes him jump, and Tony is looming over him, looking concerned. “So, you don’t need to look so glum.”

“Sorry you all had to wait for me.” Peter switches the pack to his other eye, wincing at the pack’s already blood-stained surface. “I didn’t mean to get so caught up.”

“I know the feeling.” Tony pushes more ibuprofen towards Peter. “But that’s not what’s bothering you, is it?”

Peter shrugs.

“Why don’t you have some of the painkillers I made for you?”

“They just make me so sleepy.” Peter’s eyes follow Tony’s to the specially marked bottle, still mostly full, in the corner of his medicine cabinet. “I want to be there for this. I want to see my kid’s first Halloween, I want-” but his voice catches with that weird emotion again, and he stops, unsure if he can continue.

Tony, to his service, doesn’t push, just sits down next to Peter in the bathroom, cracking open another ice pack and pushing it towards him.

Peter takes it, tossing the other one towards the trash can. He throws it with too much force, and the can tips, wobbling before falling over completely. He presses the pack to his eyes anyway, not able to look at Tony. The faucets slow dripping is the only noise. But he knows what he needs to say.

“I’m going to die as Spider-Man, aren’t I?”

If the question surprises the older man, he doesn’t let on. Doesn’t shift his expression, doesn’t gasp, doesn’t cry. He’s blunt as he looks back towards Peter, “Well, there’s certainly a chance.”

Peter lets out a long, bubbling breath. “But it’s…it’s feeling less and less like a chance. More like…” He thinks of all the times this past week he has had a gun pressed to his head, a knife stabbed through his guts. Run face first into a brick wall. “More like every time I’m putting on the suit, I’m making a choice. A choice to pick New York over my family, over my kid.”

Tony raises an eyebrow, playing with a roll of Ace bandages.

“It used to be so easy,” Peter is babbling now, but the words are flowing out of him, words he has been thinking for weeks, but hasn’t fully actualized until this moment, “I just, I just _knew_ I needed to wear the suit. And it never seemed dangerous, even though I realize now it always, always was. But back then, it was just so cool and fun. And I only had me to worry about, it was just me on the line.” But now that he is thinking more deeply about it, some dark realization comes bubbling forth. “Oh my god, you and May, though. I must have stressed you out so much. Oh my god.”

Tony laughs, still messing with the bandages. “All those talks we had, and you’re _just now_ realizing why I went grey so early?”

Peter laughs too, though it feels dangerously close to crying. “It’s just getting harder. And I’m getting slower. And…it’s not that I don’t have more to live for now, but-”

“It’s perspective,” Tony says gently. “It’s not that you didn’t have things to live for before. But now you realize. Our life, well, your life now, it’s not easy. And it’s certainly not secure in the life insurance area.”

“Fuck.” Peter drops his aching face into his hands, tugging at his hair. “It was so easy to sign up for this when I was younger. But now…” He looks up at Tony. “Is it terrible that I don’t want to stop? That I don’t know if I can?”

“Kid, how do you think this happened?” Tony hefts up his prosthetic, and it glints oddly in the fluorescent bathroom light. “You think Pepper wanted me to go back out again?”

“No,” he whispers, but there is still a scary voice inside him whispering _Luck, it was all luck he survived. And you’ve never been lucky._

“Listen,” Tony says, as though he can hear the whispering inside Peter’s brain. “I’m just letting you know that I get it, alright? It feels like a choice, a terrible choice: familial security, or helping the greater good.”

“Yeah,” Peter whispers. “I just…I think of the loss I had, and I don’t want Lorie to go through that. Lose a parent because I chose New York over her. I used to be fine with dying as Spider-Man, but now I’m not so sure. I don’t think I ever realized what that really meant.

Tony wraps an arm around his shoulder, squeezes hard. “That’s completely understandable. But that’s not a decision you’re making tonight, is it?”

Peter hesitates, but eventually shakes his head.

“Right.” Tony squeezes again. “So why don’t we go watch our kids trick-or-treat for a little while? Who knows, next year Morgan might be too cool to associate with either of us, so we might as well enjoy it while it lasts.”

Peter cracks a grin, though something is still stirring, stumbling deep inside of him. Who is he without Spider-man? Who is Spider-Man if not a risk taker for the greater good? Who is he as a father if he is even having thoughts of putting his life on the line?

But he pushes up with a groan from the bathroom floor, throwing the ice pack into the trash can. It wobbles but stays upright. He peels his web shooters off his wrists and follows Tony to go find his kid.

Right now, it is trick-or-treating time.

**Author's Note:**

> Soooooo long story short, my laptop died about 1.5 weeks ago, and after MANY trips to the apple store, it was determined that they could not fix my computer and save my data. Which included 4 years of my creative writing on it. So, after many tears and desolate nights, I am FINALLY BACK writing on a new laptop.
> 
> Although, thankfully, a lot of my fanfiction is backed up on the internet, I have lost a lot of my personal work which uh....sucks a lot. Like big time suckage. But we're still working on solutions, and in the mean time it just feels good to be back writing again.
> 
> All of this is to say: now that I am back, I am working on a longer fic! I'm really excited about it, but as I said above, I'm also just trying to crank out some quick things as well. I really just wanted to get something out there and write and have a good time, so this is my stupid, sloppy response. Who knew I would ever write a Halloween fic.
> 
> Anyway, thank you for suffering through this a/n, I would love if you left a comment, but either way I hope you have a great Halloween <3


End file.
